


Urban Skyglow

by Anonymous



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blankets, Engagement, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mountain Photographer Iwaizumi Hajime, Post-Canon, Pro Volleyball Player Oikawa Tooru, Stargazing, akaashi appears in one scene, improper use of blankets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 15:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10619385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Oikawa comes back after the 2020 Olympics. Hajime makes a promise before the next flight.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Frenchibi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frenchibi/gifts).



> i wanted to write something for you so i sneaked a peek at your exchange's prompts. i chose domestic au, because we need some fluff right now, yeah? ^^

Hajime finds him on the rooftop of their apartment, his gaze on the stars, journeying somewhere higher than the clouds can reach.

“Is the skylight not enough for you?” Hajime says over the wind billowing at this height, closing the door to creaky staircases behind him.

“Hmm-mm,” Oikawa hums, in return, from his perch at the precipice, fearing little of the glittering world below while Hajime still has to swallow back a jump of his heart. _He won't fall_ , Hajime thinks. Because Oikawa will always hold Hajime's hand and pull him along, too.

Walking onward, he lets the gravelly concrete floor graze the bare soles of his feet, grounding, and recalls of the roads they'd discovered as children, the bite of sunburned asphalt and grainy softness of training-camp beaches and riverbeds’ cool tickling at their ankles. Autumn breeze nips at exposed skin, singing like the pulse in his ears during a run up steep hills. A thick blanket is folded over the crook of his arm, wrinkled, colors faded from years-long use and maybe unwashed for a few days too many. But Hajime deems that, sometimes, for all their wanderlust, they might take comfort in things already familiar as well.

When he's at the edge, he pokes at Oikawa’s ticklish side with his toes, even though there's ample space for him to settle down. It's a light touch—even Hajime isn't that cruel, not like Hanamaki or Matsukawa or Oikawa himself—but he sees Oikawa shiver a little in this fleeting moment of unguarded confession, a drop in his ever-constant vigilance, and so Hajime lays the blanket over him like a shelter.

Oikawa grasps at the seams, brings them together over his chest, and tips his head up to take in the sky. Gently, between this absence of words, Hajime lands next to him, far too close and welcomed, shifting his legs to dangle them over the rooftop's edge. In lieu of the things unsaid, he softly brushes them against Oikawa's unusually still ones. Hajime feels himself crack a smile, when the other man just nudges back at the challenge with playful fervor.

“Is the skylight in our room not enough?” Hajime asks again once their legs are swinging to and fro in some languid rhythm, their tempo syncing up with one another's, and the fogs of their breaths settling into the stratosphere.

Oikawa reaches out, one end of the blanket still within his clutch, and shares the comfort between them so that Hajime joins the huddle, too. It's soft, and already warmed by Oikawa's body heat, and if Oikawa spots the burn on Hajime’s face as he tucks his head into the crook of Hajime's neck, he doesn't say.

“I love it,” Oikawa tells him, pressing the corner of a smile into his shoulder, “the skylight, and Miyagi’s night sky. I’d missed this.”

“Tokyo wasn't quite the same, huh?”

“Hmm. It’s very glittery, _the city that never sleeps_. There’s never a shortage of colors and lights and skyscrapers.”

“ _The city that never sleeps_ ,” Hajime repeats. “It suits you.”

“Really? I’ve been sleeping a hell of a lot lately.”

“You’re out here, now.”

Oikawa hums again. He’s been doing that more often, as if words are no longer a necessity between them, and Hajime can't say he disagrees. Still—Oikawa's voice, which Hajime used to label as _noisy_ , now drips with the spaces of home.

Because despite their restlessness and penchant for never staying still too long, home is a person, sometimes.

“It’s not quite the same without you,” Oikawa whispers, the confession murmured against Hajime's skin; Hajime catches it, anyway, and lets himself tighten his hold on Oikawa. _You’re home, now._

_We're home._

“I probably wouldn't like living in big cities like that,” Hajime says. “They’d be too noisy and crowded. I already have your noisy ass around.”

“Aww, Iwa-chan, are you saying I’ll always be around?”

“You're impossible to get rid off.”

 _Well_ , Hajime thinks, _I’m clingy, too, that way_.

“You’ve been sleeping a lot less, you know,” Oikawa chides out of the blue. “Don't think I haven't noticed.”

He brushes his toes over Hajime’s calves, glancing touches against the part he _knows_ to be ticklish, and Hajime just meets him right back.

“Someone who’s been working their ass to win an Olympic medal don't really have the right to tell me that.”

“Well, your _boyfriend_ has the right to tell you that.” At this, Oikawa also sticks his tongue out at him. It's a gesture Hajime didn't expect he’d miss this badly, and he can't help the upward twitch of his lips. When Oikawa sees his smile, he just ducks back into their huddle, tugging the blanket over his head, and pulls at it to frame himself like it's a bridal veil.

“Don't smile like that,” he gripes half-heartedly. His face is hidden, but Hajime can hear the pout, anyway. “You and your cute jumbo forehead.”

“I’m pretty sure humans smile with their mouths.”

Another game of footsie and Oikawa just says, “Shut up,” before giving up a chuckle. In one swift move, he turns Hajime's face by the chin to give him a quick kiss on said smile, and—well, that works to shut Hajime up.

He snuggles closer, the cheeky dumbass. “Iwa-chan, do you know what an urban skyglow is?”

“I’m guessing it has something to do with astronomy, space nerd.”

“ _Godzilla nerd_.”

“ _Godzilla_ versus _aliens_ , really?” Hajime lets out a _tch_ with no real force behind it. “The winner is clear.”

Oikawa huffs that _Oikawa Tooru_ huff, pursed lips and all, and just lightly bumps their temples together. “It's a type of light pollution caused by manmade lighting. It's a large part of why we can't see the stars in bigger, denser cities.

“I wonder what would happen if we all turn off our lights, if the stars are bright enough to light up the night.”

“That’d be interesting to see.”

“Yeah. I mean, the Milky Way is _really_ bright.”

Oikawa _gushes_ at this, the excitement Hajime hadn't seen since they separated now a glint in his eyes. Hajime finds himself making constellations out of the urban skyglow reflected on them; Oikawa's eyes have always been a warm sort of brown, and in this instance, they’re speckled with the city’s lights reaching this perch on the high-rise apartment’s rooftop, like they're a star system of their own.

“—wa-chan? Iwa-chan?”

At the call, Hajime blinks out of his stargazing. When he breathes in, it's the kind that rattles the lungs, but neither from the cold or any fear of falling. _I missed you_ , Hajime can only hear himself think. _I missed us_. One hand slips into his jacket pocket to curl around a small box. He leans in, burrowing into the crook of Oikawa's neck, his forehead on the heated skin, and sighs out a breath just as tremulous as the intake.

In turn, with no longer than a millisecond delay, Oikawa just rests the spread of his palm on the nape of Hajime's neck. His lithe fingers are calloused and distinctly _Oikawa_ , from the texture to the size to the way he holds Hajime steady, ready to share the weight of him in any and every moment of weakness.

“Don't leave.” It's Hajime turn to confess. It comes out a tad muffled, but Oikawa will understand, anyway. “I don't care if you're flying to New York or any damn place for your knee surgeries, or if you want to play at the Olympics again and travel all over the world. I don't care if I have to be away overseas for days or months for my job. _Don't leave us._ ”

“Hey, Hajime—what brought this on?” Oikawa tries for a levity with another chuckle, but the grasp of his hand gives him away. “You know I’m never going to leave. _I’m impossible to get rid of_ , right?”

Hajime just releases a held breath, tension uncoiling slowly yet at light speed, too, like a planet finally settling into orbit, heart rate deaccelerating. He lets go of his clutch around the velvety box, brings both hands up to cradle Oikawa's cheeks, and presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Yeah.” Hajime laughs, letting their foreheads touch, keeping them in place for a while. “You're impossible to get rid of”— _I want you to stay, in my mind and every space I have to offer_ —“like a flea. Annoying and impossible to wash off.”

“Wha— _okay_ , way to ruin the mood there, Iwa-chan! _How rude_!”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_“Iwaizumi-san,” calls Akaashi Keiji, his new assistant. “Why did you choose mountain photography?”_

_Sight through the lenses and at the snowy mountain range hundreds of kilometers ahead, Hajime presses the shutter._ Click-click-click _, goes the camera. He checks the results, deems them satisfactory, and lets the camera hang by its strap around his neck. Oikawa will love all this snow, Hajime muses._

 _“It's really high up here,” he tells Akaashi. “I once made a promise with a friend that we’d reach the highest stage,_ the world's stage _, and, well. He’s there, getting ready to represent Japan in the two-thousand twenty Olympics, but I drifted somewhere along the way.”_

_A gust blows past them. Akaashi grabs the tail of his scarf so it won't smack him in the face. Hajime thinks to brave the forces, like Oikawa might actually try, because the dumbass won't let most people notice he's shivering. When Hajime shivers, anyway, he decides he's still not into such theatrics._

_“And,” Hajime continues, as the sun drifts lower on the sky, the stars rising early and luminous on this side of the earth’s hemisphere, “the sky here is quite nice.”_

_Akaashi just stares at him, like Hajime might be a lovestruck high-schooler spouting sappy romantic quotes. He's not that far off, perhaps._

_Hajime raises an arm to point at the infinity overhead. Akaashi follows the indication, and a smile tugs at the corners of Hajime’s mouth as his friend stoically gushes at the spectacle. Still, he thinks Oikawa will love this, too, and that they might as well climb mountains together and conquer the sky._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Iwa-chan.”

“Go away.”

“ _Iwa-chaaaan._ ”

Hajime groans, rolling over to his other side and slapping Oikawa’s tickling hands away. The hard concrete bed cushioned only by their comforter isn't exactly helping. “I’ll kill you. Let me sleep.”

He hears Oikawa inhale deep and, _like always_ , he’s too late to escape, and Oikawa just blows wet and _gross_ into his exposed ear.

In the face of Hajime's _do you wanna die?!_ threats, Oikawa just smiles, all bright and— _damn him_ —cute. Hajime relents, because there are more urgent matters to attend, _anyway_ , and sighs like he's aged fourteen years overnight.

Hajime sits across from him, legs crossed, leaning back on a hand. “You still keep the habit of waking up before the break of dawn, huh,” he says, yawning at the end of it.

“Of course!” says Oikawa. He draws his legs up, tucks his arms between them and his chest, and rests his chin on top. Hajime still has no idea why this position is aggravatingly cute. “An athlete has to get his morning runs, after all.”

He steels his gaze from straying to the almost-broken knee between them. It's instinctive to search, to chase away what might be causing those pained lines on Oikawa's face, but they should remind themselves that they have time. “Doesn’t mean you should wake other people up, dumbass.”

“But Iwa-chan, who else will I get to tease?”

“You have a terrible personality.”

Oikawa squints in a grin. “Coming from the person who loves me the most, that's just silly, Iwa-chan.”

“Yeah,” Hajime says. “Yeah, I love you a lot.”

When Oikawa is rendered speechless, as he always is when Hajime breaks the streak with something _this obvious_ , Hajime cracks a smile of his own. Hands reach out to ruffle that bedhead of soft brown locks, and it takes Oikawa several seconds to recover, his cheeks flushed in a dead giveaway. Hajime can't say he's not in a similar state.

The sunlight steadily crawling across the rooftop reaches the edge of their make-shift bed. Hajime peers at the horizon, visible from this high-rise’s height, and finds it to be a boundless, endless destination. If they're to always run, never staying still for too long, they might chase something infinite as the horizon together.

With the blanket grasped in both hands, Hajime calls, “Tooru.”

When Oikawa looks up, pallor almost returned to normal, Hajime pulls the cloth over their heads like it's a bridal veil. Over the city’s morning song of traffic and the birds’ dawn chorus, with the sun, _also a star_ , casting them in its golden light, Hajime keeps their sights connected as he takes Oikawa's left hand in both of his. In this lack of distance between them, Hajime hears Oikawa's breath hitch, and he himself might not be breathing as well as he slips it on. The titanium ring feels somewhat cool on their skin, still warmed from a sleep’s worth of cuddling, but he thinks Oikawa's shaking from something that has nothing to do with temperatures.

“Hajime, you _dummy_ ,” Oikawa mutters, chin tipped down, expression obscured, even as Hajime mourns the fitting. _Ahh, a few millimeters too big_. “I hate you.”

“You’re welcome.”

A weak punch to his shoulder. “Why do you always get to be the first?”

“Maybe I’m the smarter one.”

“No, you _dummy_.” Oikawa chuckles, all hitched and cracked. “You're as observant as a brick.”

“Tooru.”

“No.”

“Tooru, look at me.”

Oikawa does, the pretend-veil falling around his shoulders as he angles his head up. Stars trail down his cheeks, the sun’s rays reflecting off his tears.

 _Ah_ , _I never knew you could be so happy you’d cry_ , Hajime muses, and blinks back something threatening to overflow.

“Tooru, I need to know—”

“Yes,” Oikawa rasps. “ _Yes_. See, you're as observant as a brick.”

And Hajime’s about to say something, _anything_ , to release this _elated_ surge of emotions, but Oikawa gives him no such chances; he swoops in, grabbing Hajime's cheeks in both hands and smushing them, kissing him but missing his mark almost entirely. Hajime joins in the revelry, too, _because they're so ridiculous right now_ , and also _ridiculously happy_ , and Oikawa just lunges at him even more. They both fall into a glorious pile of morning breaths and rumpled clothes and years-old blanket, laughing, cheering, bathed in this star’s glow that they call the sun.

 _I’ll chase the horizon with you_ , Hajime decides, and Oikawa lights up like he's basking in the glow of such sentiments.

**Author's Note:**

> [a pic that goes with the flashback scene.](http://astersandstuffs.tumblr.com/post/159545817699/haikyuu-urban-skyglow)
> 
> to everyone who read this fic - thank you!! feedback is appreciated. let me know what you think of this? ^^
> 
> poke me on [tumblr.](http://astersandstuffs.tumblr.com)


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